


Movin' Forward

by orphan_account



Series: Faith, Loyalty, and them Van der Linde [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Angst, Animal Attack, Bad Jokes, Bad Parenting, Blood and Injury, Bounty Hunting, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Drunken Flirting, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Friendship, Gambling, Gen, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Injury Recovery, Memories, Music, Mutual Pining, No Smut, Parenthood, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Pining, Pre-Canon, Relationship Study, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Smoking, Strangers to Friends, Trauma, Traveling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 11:11:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It started in Mount Pleasant, Iowa. A divorced former outlaw hoped to live a good and happy life with her children, but it became increasingly difficult when her ex-husband returned to their lives intending to take her back by any means necessary. Enter: a gang of good Samaritans.Set before Red Dead Redemption 2's events: starting in 1889 and ending in 1899 before the Blackwater incident.





	Movin' Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No more drinking.

— ❁ —

 **September 7th, 1889**  
**Mount Pleasant, Iowa**  
**Town**

"'M scared, Patty. I been _*hic*_  havin' them nightmares again." Her tired chestnut-brown eyes traced over the features of her bearded companion's face, trying to get a reading on the stoic expression he wore. There was an occasional slur of the tongue when she spoke, yet she kept strong and continued. "'Member... that one _*hic*_  with Willy poss-possibly comin' back for me?"

The hiccups that came from within irritated her to no end, but she tried to ignore them. Her body slackened against the bar table she sat at and she rested her elbows on its surface, with her chin soon finding its place cradled against the palms of her hands.

She glanced at the clock behind Patty and took note of the time.  _6'clock_. Where had the time gone?

A whistle came from her lips as she awaited his answer. As silence returned between the two of them, the feeling of anxiousness grew in the pit of her stomach. _What'll his response be?_

She didn't know why she was stressing over what he thought, but she couldn't stop herself.

Eventually, Patty gave a curt nod. The woman looked up at him with a bright smile, excited to hear his usage of slang and the way he pronounced his words with his mystifying accent.

"'Course I do, Joanna. Every time ya come here, ya get langers from whiskey an' blubber about the bloke till ye leave."

Joanna could see a small frown form on his face. And she was the cause of it.

_Shit._

Her hands left her face and she sat up, brushing the ebony tresses of hair from her face. At an attempt to lighten the mood, she scrunched up her face into a scowl and spoke with a high-pitched, haughty tone, "Is that any way to treat a loyal _*hic*_ patron, Mr. O'Connor? How dare you."

He stared at her for a bit, his face rendered expressionless as if he was trying to register the horribly embarrassing imitation she did of a stuck-up, rich woman.

_And..._

Rewarded with a smirk accompanied by a snort, Joanna found herself laughing.

_Thank goodness._

Patty took Joanna's last empty bottle of whiskey and placed it in a compartment in the bar. There was a certain glint in his bright forest-green eyes as he cheekily retorted, "Much as I appreciate yer patronage luv, I believe it's best I stop serving liquor to ya."

He pulled out a mug and filled it with water, passing it over to Joanna. "Would set a good example fer the little ones."

The anxious feeling from earlier faded away and got replaced with butterflies in her stomach. A wistful sigh came from her and she looked him in the eye. She wanted to say so many things. _So many._ She opted for a light-hearted reply.

"God, why didn't I marry you when I had the chance, Patrick? You coulda _*hic*_  kept me straight."

She downed the water in one go and set the mug back down. A burp bubbled out from her and she grinned from ear to ear.  _How unladylike._

"Y'know: if ya stayed here, you wouldn't've become the fierce woman ya are today."

Joanna's eyebrows raised. She hadn't heard anyone say anything like that to her before. It was strange, and didn't feel right to her, so she made an attempt at dismissing it. "You're jus' sayin' that to make me feel better."

He shook his head, taking her hands into his own, squeezing them gently in reassurance. "From everythin' ya told me, Wilson Prewitt is a twisted feckin' bastard who took advantage of ya. But every time he belittled or hurt ya, you never gave up an' came back here safe and sound soon as ya could."

"Yer a strong lass an' I admire how much ov a chancer ya are," Patty added, releasing her hands and watching her closely. He wasn't letting up with the large grin he had.

 _Oh_... Hearing that made her feel a whole lot better on the inside. A rush of happiness and sadness welled in her heart, Joanna sat frozen, conflicted. She thought to herself and recounted the memories she shared with Patrick—the good and the bad. And _damn,_  did she miss those days. Tears pricked her eyes and blurred her vision more than her drunken state had.

Joanna wiped them away with her shirt sleeve, looking down at the bar table. "You always were my favorite, Patrick O'Connor." She chuckled at the remark, not missing the way her voice quivered as she'd spoke. "That Bonnie is a real lucky woman to have a guy like you."

 _Real lucky Bonnie_ , she thought, fighting the frown that tried to make its way to her mouth. _Stop feelin' sad for yourself, you made your choice a long time ago._

"I hear quite the opposite from folks."

Joanna rolled her eyes, her gaze returning to him. "Well, they're all a buncha eejets who don't know what the feck they're talkin' 'bout."

And the look on Patrick's face when she uttered that sentence was priceless. She wished she had one of those handy cameras on her. ... _If only._

Once he recovered from his surprised state, Patty pointed out, "Never thought I'd hear ya speak like that. Looks like I'm rubbin' off on ya."

Joanna wondered aloud, "Don't know if I should be scared or not."

"Probally," Patrick concluded. "Now, it's real late, dearie... d'you wanna rest at my gaff? Bonnie'd happuly set the guest room fer ya."

With a quick shake of her head, she answered, "I shouldn't impose. 'sides, the ranch ain't too far." Lord, after the talk they just had, Joanna would've felt mortified with having to stay at her ex's house. She wouldn't have it.

Joanna stood up from the stool and stretched up, relishing in the satisfying popping sound of her nearly exhausted joints. She reached down, adjusting her dark blue slacks and gun belt. Grabbing her coat from the stool next to her, she pulled it on. And once she removed the ends of her shoulder-length hair from its uncomfortable spot between her back and the jacket, she was ready to head home.

"Ya sure yer well enough to ride home after all that drinkin'?" 

There was a concerned look on Patrick's face, which she gave a big smile to. _Always a worrier_. Then again, who could blame him? She sure as hell wasn't the best when it came to sound decision-making.

"'M fine, Patrick. Give my regards to Bonnie and your lil one." She ignored the sick feeling that called for her attention. If she hustled, she'd be home sooner where she could rest.

As she exited the establishment, Joanna could hear him faintly call out: "be safe, luv."

• • •

Greeted with cold autumn air, she shivered and pulled her arms close to herself. Joanna soon heard the familiar neighing of her horse and gave a large, bright smile. She quickly descended down the building's few steps, the clanking of her spurs against the wooden planks sounded satisfying to her.

Once she made it to her horse and gave her a soft pat. "Sorry you waited so long, girl. I promise to give some of them red apples you like once we get back." She instead pulled a carrot out of one of the saddle's bags and fed it to the horse.

When finished, Joanna carefully and slowly saddled up on her horse, patting its side once more.

"Let's head home, Millie."

Millie gave a loud neigh, and they were off into the night.

• • •

But the dizzy feeling returned, and it wasn't going away that time.

A few miles from town and a little further from home, Joanna slowed Millie down to a trot.

Soon enough, everything was _swaying._

_Spinning._

_Too much_ _._

And Joanna found herself falling on the dirt path with a thud, Millie's alerted whinnies the only sound she could register...

until everything went

 **dark**.

• • •

She fell in and out of consciousness for a bit. Felt her body rise up, like she were flying in one of her dreams. She still couldn't open her eyes, so she deducted that someone picked her up. When she woke up again, there was the faint scent of maple, which had soon been replaced with the reeking smell of alcohol. And... she definitely felt herself emptying her stomach from that.

Then, there was the low, gruff voice of a disgruntled man.

"God damnit. Marston, once we get there you're cleanin' this shit up soon as she's outta this damn wagon!"

Wait... wait...

She couldn't tell if she recognized the man's voice, but at that moment, she grew too scared to think properly.

Was it Wilson?

Did he finally find her?

Was he taking her back with him?

_Please, God—don't make me go back to him._

Joanna couldn't move. Couldn't speak, or scream. All she _could_ do was let the darkness welcome her once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Not the best, but certainly not the worst beginning I've ever written. I'd been contemplating on sharing this, and I had a hard time simply writing out this damn prologue. In the end, I believe I did decent.
> 
> From here on out, I think writing the next few chapters should be a little easier. Still trying my best to stop myself from thinking that everything has to be perfect. After all, this is just a hobby for me.  
>  **  
>  _Thank you for reading!_  
> **


End file.
